Requiem for the Conqueror

  "I understand," Ily bowed graciously. Time to gamble. She touched the button under the desk. Tyklat knocked immediately.

  "Enter," Ily called.

  Tyklat opened the door with Officer Morlai in tow. The Warden's officer sweated his nervousness, face pale despite the deep desert tan.

  "Tyklat! Just the person I wanted to see. Where is that Rotted equipment? The Lord Commander wants the collar removed."

  Tyklat smiled uneasily. "It's on the way, Minister, I swear. We don't take many off of live . . . well, I mean."

  By affected an air of irritation. "Then you had best get someone who can find something that will work."

  "Immediately. But, well, your pardon Minister," Tyklat said with a bow. "I hope I am not intruding, but the officer has come for the slave woman, Kaylla."

  "By all means. It was a pleasure, Kaylla, to—"

  "No!" Staffa's voice was firm. "She goes with me." His gray eyes gleamed wickedly. "Either she goes Minister, or. ..."

  Ily placed a hand to her head. "What is the woman's crime, Tyklat?"

  "Murder of her former master Minister Takka. I am afraid that is one of the few convictions we cannot overturn. The people would be most upset at the thought that a slave might harm them and be allowed to walk free." Tyklat looked properly distressed and embarrassed, as if he hated to do what he had to. He almost winced—a perfect performance.

  "She goes with me," Staffa said through gritted teeth. "Ily, what sort of game are you playing here? Get this damn collar off me, or so help me, Tybalt's going to get an earful!"

  "Lord Commander," Ily put the right tone of distress in her voice. "Ours is a society of laws and proscribed punish ments for crimes. You must—"

  "I killed two of your rot-cursed citizens. You would allow me to walk free?"

  His face turned flint-hard, eyes narrowed to slits as he stared at her over the wreckage of the meal.

  "Perhaps, you don't see the difference. Your conviction was a case of mistaken identity. You were beset and robbed. It isn't—"

  "Perhaps I shall return with my Companion and retrieve her on my own!" Staffa stated bluntly. "Would the Emperor like to protect his laws so much as to cross me and my fleet?"

  Kaylla swallowed hard. "Tuff, uh Lord Commander. Look, I'm not worth a war.

  I'll go." She started to get up as Staffa clamped a hard hand on her arm and pulled her down.

  Ily adopted her best perplexed look, then a light of inspiration filled her face. "Lord Commander, I might have an answer to our dilemma. Director Tyklat, once a slave is condemned, she is expected to die, isn't she? She can never regain her freedom?"

  "No, Minister."

  "Suppose we sentenced Kaylla to death?" Ily lifted an eyebrow seeing the anger stirring in Staffa's hot face. "If, for example, the slave, Kaylla, were sentenced to fight the Targan Rebels, that would constitute a death sentence, would it not?"

  Tyklat agreed with a short nod, "It could be so construed, my Lord Minister."

  The corners of Staffa's lips curled into a smile. "Well played, Lord Minister.

  You would buy my contract through Kaylla's slavery. You are worthy of your position. Now I will make my own gamble. I will stand and walk out of here, Kaylla with me. will gamble that you will not risk my anger." He reached for the override control, expression going grim as Ily held up a stun rod she'd pulled from her belt pouch.

  Staffa's cheek muscles jumped as he stood and helped a pale Kaylla to her feet. "You wouldn't risk my wrath, Minister."

  What now? I can't let him walk out. No matter what, a dead Staffa is less a threat than a mad one.

  Ily took a slow breath. "My Lord Commander, you look ill. Perhaps it is the heat which has affected you." She thumbed the stun control, watching Staffa and the woman collapse.

  Ily stood, pacing out from behind the desk and plucking the collar control from his trembling fingers. As Staffa sat up, she tapped the box with her thumbnail. The desperate look he gave her woud have sintered clay. "Tyklat, you and the officer will remain outside." She watched as they left and closed the door.

  "I'm sorry Lord Commander. Things have gone too far now. Though all is not lost for you. Your Kaylla remans with us. We cannot allow you to side with the Sassan slime. I did not wish to be forced to this action, but your honor is wel known. Contract with us, and we will send her unharmed to the Itreatic Asteroids."

  "You play with fire, Ily."

  "Not at all, Staffa." Ily backed cautiously out of reach as Kaylla sat up and winced. "I need you, and I will have you. Together, you and I can forge human space into one Empire to be ruled jointly." She extended her hand to him.

  "Join me, Staffa, and I'll cut that collar off your neck." She gave him a sultry look. "Join me and we'll knock Tybalt off his golden throne and emasculate those weak Sassans. ree Space will be ours."

  He laughed bitterly, getting to his feet. "That's your final line?"

  "Staffa, I will not take the chance that you might ally with the Sassans.

  Against you, we have no hope. With you dead, we have better odds by dealing with your Wing Commander—or, perhaps, to take the Sassans without the involvement of the Companions."

  One thumb on the collar control, she traced her fingers down the side of his face in a lover's caress. "But alive, you and I can be Emperor and Empress.

  Who could stand against us? Staffa, am I that undesirable?" She stood back, eyes locked with his, breathing so as to move her breasts under the tight fabric of her black gown.

  "Tuff!" Kaylla stood up. "What the hell are you doing?"

  "Shut up!" Ily turned, eyes cold. "You have no word here. We're bargaining for your life."

  "My life's not worth blackmail and suffering, and definitely not worth an interstellar war. Thanks, but no. Kill me right here. I'll go with honor to stop the likes of you!" Kaylla's lips hardened with disgust.

  Staffa's laughter cracked rudely in the tense air. "You heard the lady. That's it, Ily."

  "You, Staffa?" Ily laughed. "The Star Butcher backs a semen-greased slave?"

  His speed surprised her, the flat of his hand slapping the side of her face, sending her sprawling over the ebony table. Shocked but coherent, she thumbed the collar control button by reflex, as her body slid over the dirty plates.

  Fingers to her face, Ily sat up, blinking, dazed. The salty taste of blood filled her mouth. The bastard had split her lip! Thumb on the button, she stood, staggering. She looked down to where he lay. His violent stare met hers as his mouth worked soundlessly.

  "Die, Staffa! she hissed. "No one, not even the Lord Commander slaps me! I offered you an Empire!

  She let up on the button as he gasped and straightened. "Oh, no, Staffa kar Therma. Get your breath! You and your precious Kaylla can breathe a little first."

  "By the Rotted Gods, Ily, you kill me, and the story will get out. If I disappear, the Companions will hear. One of your scum will sell the information."

  "Too late, Staffa. I can't allow you to live now. My aircar will land. Tyklat and I will carry your body aboard and . . . well, an accident will happen to the ship bearing you back to your Companions." She pursed her lips as she fingered the collar control. "Most likely, it will look like the Sassans did it. And I doubt Tyklat will ever tell." She smiled. "He's good—but expendable."

  "Ily!"

  "Take a deep breath, Staffa, you're about. . . ."

  The rocking explosion took her by surprise. The walls cracked and Kapstan's prized artwork dropped to the floor as Ily fought to keep her feet. Staffa's leap caught her by surprise as he knocked the collar control spinning. Staffa leapt after it like some crazed leopard.

  Fear spurring her, Ily dove across the desk, frantic fingers seeking the drawer. She ripped it open as another concussion shook the room. Blaster fire impacted on the walls outside as she strained to reach the blaster in the desk.

  The second blast caught Staffa in mid-leap. He landed, rolling, coming up with the collar control. On his feet, he staggered as
Ily tumbled over the desk and pulled a service blaster from a drawer.

  Staffa jerked Kaylla to her feet and shoved her reeling as he ducked to one side. Ily shot from an awkward position;

  the blaster bolt sizzled past his long hair as he threw himself out of the way. Years of combat training served him as he ducked yet another burst.

  Staffa froze as Ily jumped to her feet, braced in an isosceles turret hold.

  His skin crawled as she pinned him in the sights.

  Ily's voice went silky. "Good-bye, Staffa!"

  The door slammed open but Staffa only had eyes for Ily. He launched himself as she turned her head, attention drawn to the door.

  In mid-leap he saw her crumple, falling face first over the big desk, limp.

  Staffa caught himself and rolled to one side, plucking the blaster from her fingers, the eerie tingle of a stun beam playing at the edges of his nerves.

  In a crouch he turned toward the door.

  "Don't shoot," Tyklat told him evenly. "You have very little time. "

  Tyklat replaced the stun rod with a blaster. Wary, Staffa never let his eyes leave the man as the weapon crackled and blew a section of wall out behind him. Someone screamed in the hallway beyond Tyklat. Blaster fire ripped the air. A pitched battle raged through the lower offices.

  Tyklat pointed where sunlight slanted through the hole. "Hurry. You have a slight jump to the lower roof. A man will be waiting in the back alley with an aircar. His name is Nyklos. Go, now. Master Kahn, go with him. Take him to Bruen on Targa." Tyklat turned on his heel, slamming the door behind him and muffling the vicious sounds of combat.

  Staffa caught Kaylla's arm, pulling her to her feet. "Come on! Opportunity is best not lost on dunces." He led her to the shattered wall, peering out over the rubble that had collapsed outward. With one hand, he lowered Kaylla to the debris below.

  With a bitter cry, he turned and jumped, landing on his feet, running despite the entangling robe. To one side, a window shattered in an explosion of flying glass and curling flame that sprayed him with fragments.

  Staffa shielded his eyes, racing for the roof edge, pounding across the shuddering tiles after Kaylla.

  A big bearded man stood at the controls of a pitching aircar that hovered just below the roof line and out of direct fire. Staffa leapt into the seat right behind Kaylla, the car dropping under his weight.

  Nyklos punched the throttle forward, acceleration driving Staffa hard against the firm cushions.

  "Close work," the driver called. "We cut it a bit tight back there. "

  "You're Nyklos?"

  "I'm Nyklos." He looked Staffa up and down with a narrow-eyed stare. A deep-seated caution kicked into place. This man is no friend.

  Kaylla pulled herself forward. "Tyklat called me Master back there. Why?

  How did he know?"

  Nyklos grinned wistfully. "He remembered you. You gained your Master's robes while he was still a first stage Initiate.

  "Why did it take so long for the order to find me?" she wondered, eyes searching the flat ugly brown houses they fled past.

  "We didn't know you were alive until Tyklat recognized you. We heard that you had been executed on Maika," Nyklos told her. He gave Staffa another appraisal while a crease of a frown etched into his forehead.

  "Who are you?" Staffa asked, the uneasy feeling growing in his breast. "Why are you doing this?"

  "That will be made known to you when you're out of danger. For the moment, the schedule is tight. We have to get you off planet before the Imperial fleet rolls down and blockades all of Etaria. Minister Takka has an Imperial cruiser up there. We want you well clear before she comes to.

  "And where do you think you're taking me?" Staffa's voice dropped to a low hiss, the blaster centering on Nyklos' thick torso.

  Nyklos' face lost color. "You wanted to get to Targa, to ask the Seddi about your son. We have a way to get you there. We hadn't planned on Kaylla, but-"

  "She goes with me."

  "Tuff, you don't owe me a thing," Kaylla protested. Staffa's expression hardened. "I made a promise. And the Regans will turn this planet upside down to find us. Ily will see to that. "

  "I'm afraid he's right, Master Kahn." Nyklos agreed. "Your presence complicates things. The box only has supplies enough for two."

  "Two?" Staffa asked.

  "In a moment, all will be made clear."

  "Why should I trust, you?" he asked Nyklos as they passed a bulky brick warehouse and dropped into the shadow behind the building.

  "You would rather trust your friend Ily?" Kaylla asked. Staffa frowned. Slowly the blaster lowered. Nyklos took a deep breath, relief in his brown eyes.

  "Very well, I will take your passage to Targa." Staffa put a hand on Nyklos' shoulder as he stepped from the aircar. "Why do you look at me like that? You are. . . . Yes, you would like to see me dead. Are you another whom I have wronged?"

  Nyklos' lips twitched. "All my life, I have been trained to handle the eventuality of your appearance here. Things change, the quanta play strange games with our lives and our goals. Now we meet, face-to-face, and I who have trained all my life to kill you, must instead send you to my Magister, the one man for whom I would gladly lay down my life. I pray you are worth the risk, Staffa kar Therma." The brown eyes didn't drop, nor did the expression soften.

  "Bruen?" Kaylla asked, voice suddenly vulnerable.

  "We have been in contact." Nyklos glanced at her. "Now . . . Lord Commander, bend down and let me get a look at that collar you manufacture so well."

  Skyla triggered the heavy shoulder blaster Nyklos had given her and devastated the records center in the Internal Security building. Checking the door, she stepped over the body of the clerk she'd blown in two. The delayed charges she'd set rocked the building, and chunks of plaster spilled from the ceiling.

  She could hear people screaming as they fled the building.

  Skyla checked and jumped from the doorway, sprinting down the hallway toward the landing. Steps pounded on the stairway. Skyla ducked to the side, ready to shoot.

  Tyklat appeared at the landing, blaster in hand as he crouched, ready to fire.

  Seeing Skyla, he grinned, teeth flashing in his dark face. "They're off, Wing Commander. Ily's stunned, but she won't be out for long. The schedule's tight.

  Go. I'll do my best to cover for you, but I can't jeopardize my position. I've got to seal the planet—no one in or out—within an hour. As to your vessel up there in orbit. . . ."

  Skyla stood, nodding. "I understand. I'll get its worth back out of Tybalt's hide. Take care, Tyklat. And if you ever need a job, the Companions have a place for you."

  His manner cooled. "Thank you Wing Commander. I think I will die Seddi."

  "See you, Tyklat." She dropped the heavy blaster and ran for the shattered doorway, pulling the Etarian veil up to mask her face. A crowd had gathered outside the building, people craning their necks to see. Somewhere in the distance, sirens wailed. Skyla plunged into the crowd.

  "What's happening?" a man asked, grabbing her arm as she fled.

  "They've gone crazy in there," Skyla shrilled in a panicked voice. "Crazy!"

  She jerked her elbow away and shouldered through the jostling press.

  She hurried to make the three blocks to the public transportation platform, images of Staffa burning in her mind. She'd almost gasped out loud when Ily had led him past the bench where Skyla waited in her Etarian disguise. He'd looked like a wild animal, filthy and bruised. But she knew the deadly gray stare that burned behind his eyes. And who was the tan-eyed woman?

  Her combat nerves began to'unwind and she took a deep breath as she stepped onto the shuttle bus that ran across the city. She checked her chronometer.

  Right on time. Now, if Bruen were as good as his word, she and Staffa would be headed for Targa within the hour, their crate being carried off-planet moments before Tyklat's emergency security measures sealed Etaria.

  Skyla watched the buff-colored building
s pass beyond the window as the heavy vehicle followed its route through bustling Etarus. Anxiety mingled with relief. Just how powerful were the Seddi? What was Bruen after? Why had he been so accommodating?

  You're in deep waters, Skyla. She worried the inside of her lip with nervous teeth. God, I wish I had the fleet to back me up. But the Companions were far away—and she'd need the specialized equipment on her ship to contact them.

  Skyla stood as the transport slowed to a stop, then she epped off in a seedy warehouse district. In the background, she could hear the roar of the cargo shuttle as it made its routine half-hour flight. The next time it rose, she and Staffa would be riding it up.

  Skyla walked the half block to a side door which swung open, indicating an excellent surveillance system. Nyklos met her in a narrow hallway lined with offices. As they passed, Skyla could see secretaries bent over comm monitors.

  The place was a working exporting company, and guessing from what she'd come to lea of the Seddi, probably making a profit, too.

  "Everything all right?" Skyla asked as she pulled her veil off.

  "There's a snag," Nyklos told her. "We've another party to consider."

  "The woman?" Skyla guessed. Her heart lurched suddenly. Rotted Gods, Staffa hadn't taken a lover, had he? A quelling tightness roiled her guts. And what if he did? You've no claim on him. But the thought nagged at her.

  Nyklos ushered Skyla through heavy ceramic doors and into the huge warehouse: a place filled with large gray syalon crates, each four by four meters square.

  Nyklos led her through the maze of crates.

  Staffa stood before an opened crate, hands braced on his hips. There, too, stood the tan-eyed woman, a grim expression on her face. Skyla ignored her, pacing up to Staffa, a wry grin on her face while her heart ached with longing and ]'oy.

  Staffa's lips quivered before breaking into a smile. A warmth filled his gray eyes with a tenderness she'd never seen. They faced each other awkwardly for a moment, then Staffa said, "I guess I made a mess of it, didn't I?"